Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Two weeks ago, this was the view from my bedroom window. It was an autumn filled with glorious color.

Yesterday morning, this was the view from my bedroom window...

We only had a couple of inches here, but there were power outages because it was a heavy wet snow mixed with sleet and it coated the leaves that were still clinging to the trees, causing them to topple and bring down power lines. Just a short distance away, in the Pocono Mountains, one area recorded 20 inches of the white stuff!!! Last winter was pretty mild. Makes you wonder about this winter!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Yesterday...yes, September 5th...this beauty decided to honor us with her presence. As an after thought, I planted a handful of gladiolus bulbs very late in the season and I didn't think that they would have enough time to bloom, but they're fooling me, and they couldn't have arrived at a better time. I've been in a funk lately and this little lady and her sisters are helping to snap me out of it. I stuck support stakes in when they were planted, but so far haven't needed them. Of course after 21 days with no rain, we're finally going to get a drenching tomorrow, and I'll probably be out there during the deluge to check on them. I'd be really peeved, except we desperately need the rainfall.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The grandkids, (and their parents), will be arriving in a few hours, so for the next several days I will be on a "staycation" and in 7th heaven. Then, I will need to recover! Will return next week... probably exhausted but most likely very happy!

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

A word to the wise...If you're an avid gardener who's lucky enough to own a nice, new, large piece of minimally planted property, don't start a blog at the beginning of the growing season. Trust me on this one, because I've got some experience here. You won't post at night when you're exhausted from hauling buckets of mulch or turning compost into beds, and you won't post in the morning when you're rushing through housework to get out to water, weed, plant, deadhead or putter.

On rainy days, with a list a mile long, you skip over to the local garden center to shop. You grab what you need for the next sunny day, and then you race home to read garden books, and search the internet for solutions to problems that may be plaguing your personal patch of God's green earth . (Important note: You may also have to toss a load of laundry into the washing machine or cook something to placate your neglected husband. This will insure that there are no objections the next time you head out the door to resume playing in the dirt.) Oh, and expect to lose all track of time. I'm warning you...one minute it's Memorial Day weekend and the next thing you know it's the middle of August and you're starting to think about your spring bulb order!

Now that I've explained myself away, I have to confess that I've been one happy camper since the beginning of June. Working in the garden really never seems like work to me, even when I'm exhausted and aching at the end of the day. After all, it's the means to a (hopefully) beautiful end.

Part I -The Good

In early May, I started to get my usual spring gardening itch. The weather had warmed and our sparsely planted yard was in reasonably good shape from the fall cleanup. Our neighbor had seemed to finally deal with his drainage issues, which had been washing out one of our beds, and my husband was thinking tomatoes, so we trotted off to the local garden center. I wanted to plant the relatively empty slope next to our garage with perennials, and I had some definite plants in mind, but I just wasn't sure if they would fare well on our sun drenched piece of land in zone 5 Pennsylvania. Our last home was in zone 7 New York, and almost entirely shaded by large oaks. It's been 22 years since I had gardens that you could classify as sunny. I was really looking forward to planting something other than astilbe, hosta, bleeding heart, impatiens or hydrangea!

Here's the hillside that would become my canvas as it looked at the end of May.

The few perennials that I planted last year did survive the winter. There's lavender, threadleaf coreopsis, creeping phlox, a low growing sedum and euonymous. So far, so good, but what next? I posted a few photos on the HGTV 'Rate my Space' website and got some terrific advice especially from a gardener named Glenda who has must see gardens. Visit her at http://www.tootsietime.blogspot.com/ . She has been, in very large part, an inspiration for this bed. I also relied heavily on the expert staff at a local garden center. They were really good at helping me to navigate what I consider the uncharted waters of zone 5 planting. With all of this help and a lot of work, today the garden looks like this:

I did have a picture that showed almost everything blooming simultaneously, but a toxic computer glitch made it necessary to use my backup system to restore my PC's innards to a happier time and I lost two batches of terrific pictures! I was upset on two fronts. Not only had I lost the pictures, but I was spending oodles of valuable gardening time working on rescuing the computer! Bummer.

Before I went on my gardening rampage, I used to pull into the driveway and see a few unhealthy looking burning bush. Now, I pull in and see blossoms and pretty foliage peeking through the branches of healthy bushes. (More on the shrubs later.) It's always good to come home, but it's even sweeter when you're greeted by flowers...

that's why I always keep pots of flowers by the front door.

Last year, I discovered these beauties and I liked them so much that I planted them again this year. I don't ever remember seeing this plant on Long Island or in Connecticut. It's called Plectranthus, or more commonly mona lavender. The underside of the leaves are a gorgeous deep purple and the spiky flowers are fascinating. I guess I miss having the impatiens around because I did underplant the mona with just a few. There's shade at the front door in the afternoon and this combination seems to work well here.

This year, while I was in the bed weeding next to the pots, I took a closer look at the flowers and was amazed by the intricacies of each bloom.

Each one in like a mini orchid! I understand that down south, this plant is grown as a perennial, but here it's strictly an annual. As long as it's available in this area it will be somewhere in my yard!

Here's another plant that I had never seen before, and I just immediately fell in love with it. This is Platycodon grandiflorus 'Sentimental Blue' or balloon flower. Are certain flowers not popular in certain areas of the country so local nurseries don't stock them, or are growers just now developing strains that tolerate colder zones??? How could people in NY not worship this sweetheart?

The buds really are shaped like balloons, and they were a constant source of joy for weeks. Alas, they have stopped putting on their show for this year, and I understand that this year they won't re-bloom. I'll look forward to seeing them again next year, but for now the compact dark green foliage is pretty.

I freely admit that I did get wooed by some new friends, but I remembered to get what I came for too. Monarda, (bee balm), was on my must have list as soon as I knew that we had sunny gardens. This is a nice compact strain called 'petite delight.' So far it's attracted its namesake...

and butterflies! Next year I will get some butterfly weed too, and maybe a butterfly bush.

The garden off of our back deck is coming along as well. This is how it looked at the end of May right after I planted canna bulbs. The cannas were here last year and filled the space quite nicely, so they're back for a repeat performance.

The barberry bushes were planted around the edge of this bed to keep the rabbits out. I wish that they would get at little larger, because the little stinkers are strolling right by them.

Here's a better peek at the cannas. My husband was so excited last week when he was watering and a hummingbird came to feast. We're finally attracting birds and insects to the yard.

Difficult to see, but this is also where I start the plants that were given to me by friends. All of these little ones came to me as cuttings or tiny plants. Nice to see them from the deck.

This Knockout rose was given to us by friends the first spring that we moved to PA. The poor bush had to live in its pot for several months until the beds were installed and it came through like a champ. Then it was attacked by gypsy moth caterpillars and eaten to a nub before I could bring myself to use and insecticide. It came through again! This Knockout is living up to its reputation as a rugged rose!

Just to reassure you that I didn't forget the old friends that I went shopping for in the first place, here they are.

Yes, I even wound up getting astilbe and a hydrangea for the front of the house! Old habits die hard!

Next time the bad and the ugly. Might as well lump them together and have it done!

Sunday, August 10, 2008

I belong to our church choir, so I spend quite a bit of time in the choir loft, yet I had never noticed the small statue that was standing on a shelf against the back wall. She first came to my attention last fall, when our pastor asked the congregation to help give the interior of the church a thorough cleaning. I had volunteered to work in the loft, and it was then that she first caught my eye. Covered with grime, and sitting on a very dirty cotton doily, was a lovely but battered St. Cecilia, the patron saint of music.

At some time in the distant past, Cecilia had obviously taken a tumble, because she was missing fingers and her paint was chipped in quite a few spots. She also had a crack in the top of her head, yet despite her "injuries" and tattered garments, she valiantly continued to play her lyre, and her countenance remained ethereal. This poor woman deserved better. I knew right then and there that she'd be coming home with me. She needed a lot of TLC that would take time, concentration and paints and materials that I had at home. At the end of the work day, I carefully wrapped her in the dry towels that I had brought for the cleaning, placed her in my wash bucket and drove her home. Our relationship had begun.

Now I'm not an expert restorer, just a crafter with quite a few years of experience, so I'm not sure if Cecilia is plaster or chalkware. I do know that water is poison to both, so I was extremely careful when I started bathing her. I used dozens of barely damp cotton swabs, toothpicks wrapped in bits of fabric, cosmetic brushes and eye makeup applicators. Once she was clean, I allowed her to dry for several days, then started to touch up her paint. The results were amazing. She was slowly returning to her former glory, but the finger repairs had to wait. I'd have to research the 'how to' and our litugical year was starting. To make things busier, we were also starting the year long celebration of our parish's 150th anniversary. Sadly, I returned Cecilia to the shelf in the choir loft and she remained there until one week ago.

Last Sunday, we had to clear everything from a large section of the choir loft to make way for a renovation project. Before we left, my husband and I took our music with us and I decided to take Cecilia home too. There was no sense leaving her in the way of the construction, besides, she's losing her shelf! This was the perfect opportunity to work on those fingers and finish the painting.

I've been working on Cecilia all week and she's almost done. I wish I had thought to take pictures before I started to build her new fingers! It really is miraculous!

Here's Cecilia with her new digits. It took four thin layers of spackle and a bunch of toothpicks to build them and I used a tiny piece of fine emory board to sand them down between applications. She's pretty petite at 13 inches so these fingers are teensy.

When I started painting, it became apparent that I needed to do more sanding! That one finger looked broken! I also decided to add some bling to C's outfit, so I broke out the metallic paint. I don't recall one Bible passage that prohibits a saint from being a fashonista.

The sanding did the trick, but now I had to add shading for definition. Custom mixing colors may have been the most difficult part of this project!

The finished project. Isn't she lovely??? I do think that I will try to make the hand a little more sallow to match C's face. I'll decide tomorrow in natural light.

And this I just couldn't resist. If a woman has a "new" outfit, shouldn't she have a new 'do'? Well I couldn't create a new hairstyle, so I just gave Cecilia highlights. Wish my hair looked this good!

I'm going to miss St. Cecilia lounging around my kitchen counters, but at least I'll get to see her at rehearsals and when we sing at Mass. We're going to have to find her a new safe spot, and I think I'll stick some museum putty on her base so she doesn't fall again.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Once upon a time, (21 years ago to be precise), in a strange land, (a village on the north shore of Long Island, New York), a stay at home Mom, (that would be me), was having a fairy tale week. I was running a craft and sewing business from our home, and for the first time ever, I was caught up on orders and deliveries. The spring cleaning was finished, so the house was sparkling, and I had found enough time to make curtains for the kitchen, which perfectly complimented the charming wallpaper that my husband had hung the previous weekend. The grocery shopping was done, (for once I had gotten everything on the list), and each item was tucked away in its proper spot. My husband was enjoying a reasonably quiet workweek, and our second grade son, Colin, had an excellent week at school, which in his case meant that he didn't break his glasses on the playground. Even our cat, Sullivan, (AKA: 'Sully'), who was having problems growing out of his mischievous kitten stage, had managed to stay out of trouble.

Life was good, and we were anticipating that it would only get better, because we had plans for a terrific weekend. My son's friend, Carl, was having his first sleepover at our house on Friday night. Saturday afternoon, Colin, already an advanced piano student, was scheduled to perform at a classical music festival, then he was going to stay overnight at Carl's house. (Carl's Mom and I had a reciprocal childcare arrangement so we could both garner some 'quality' time with adults.)

My husband and I, along with two other couples, were returning to the music festival to attend another concert in the evening, and afterwards the six of us were coming back to our house for a late supper. I would make dessert in the morning and do dinner prep in between concerts. Sunday would include church and dinner at Grandma's house. Since I had been magically transformed into a combination of June Cleaver and Wonderwoman, I was unusually organized and totally prepared. Let the weekend begin!

Carl arrived, as planned, on Friday evening, and after a few hours of snacking, playing with Legos and watching TV, the boys got ready for bed. There was the usual bouncing on the bed and rolling around the floor in fits of laughter, but pretty quickly an unnatural silence settled over the house. Wait...It wasn't even 9:30. This was much too early for boys on a sleepover to be settled in for the night!

Fearing the worst, I flipped on the hall light, flew up the steps two at a time and pushed open my son's bedroom door. Both boys were in their sleeping bags on the floor. "Mom, close the door. Carl's asleep and you're shining the light on him!" my son whispered. I stepped into the room, closed the door behind me, and asked if everything was okay. "Sure," Colin answered. "We were talking, Carl said he was tired and he just fell asleep. Listen...he snores! I'm going to sleep now too, so we can do stuff in the morning." Since Carl was asleep, it was okay for my son to give me a quick goodnight kiss, and then he asked me to "almost" close the door on my way out. I was officially dismissed and off duty, with enough evening left over to sink into a bubble bath and give myself a manicure!

By midnight, my neatly polished nails were dry, and after checking on the boys who were now both snoring, my husband and I snuggled under our freshly laundered comforter. Secure in the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday, I turned off the alarm on the clock radio and quickly fell asleep. What seemed like only minutes later, I was startled out of a deep sleep by a little hand patting my cheek.

"Mom. Mommy. Are you up? Carl's hungry and he wants breakfast. "

I was groping the barely visible nightstand for my glasses. "What time is it?" I managed to mumble.

"It's almost 6:00," came the reply through the darkness.

"It's too early for breakfast," I groaned. "Why don't you both go watch cartoons for a while?" This was going to be a full day, and I needed it to start a tad later.

When Colin answered that they had already watched the Smurfs, I knew I had to get up. Two hungry, wide awake, seven year old boys left alone downstairs didn't seem like a good idea. It was much too early to flirt with disaster. I pulled on a robe, found my slippers and dragged myself downstairs to our beautiful little kitchen. Carl was already seated at the table.

"Good morning Carl. Did you get a good night's sleep?" I asked as cheerily as I could, considering the hour and the fact that I hadn't had a cup of coffee.

"Yes, thank you," came the reply. Now this is one of the reasons I loved Carl...he had impeccable manners. This child was also extremely bright, very articulate and well behaved. He was rapidly becoming my all time favorite little house guest.

While I filled my stove top percolator with water, I asked the boys what they wanted for breakfast.

"Pancakes please," Carl said immediately. "Yeah, pancakes!'' Colin echoed.Pancakes??? Those were too much work at this hour of the morning. I measured coffee into the basket of the coffee pot, slapped on the lids and turned on the gas. "How about cereal?" I countered. I was doing my best Vanna White imitation as I held up a box of Golden Grahams."I always have pancakes on Saturday," Carl stated flatly. His demeanor had changed and he looked like he was going to cry. I decided it would be easier to make the pancakes than it would be to deal with tears. "Okay, pancakes it is," I said quickly, while I grabbed a cookbook. I didn't keep pancake mix in the house at that time, because I was still cooking everything from scratch. I assembled ingredients, plugged in the electric griddle and wished that the coffee would start perking. I desperately needed a shot of caffeine

The batter was ready and waiting by the time the little light on the griddle announced that it had reached 375 degrees. I swiped margarine over the preheated surface, glanced at the still silent coffee pot, and ladle in hand, started to turn towards the table to ask the boys how many pancakes they wanted. I never did get to ask the question because in mid-turn a black and white ball of fur flew past my face! SULLIVAN??? Yes it was the cat, who we already knew could leap tall china cabinets in a single bound, and he was headed towards the hot griddle! This all happened so quickly that I couldn't prevent the inevitable, and I watched in horror as our cute little kitten made a perfect 4 paw landing on the sizzling surface!

Within a nanosecond, Sully realized his feet were burning and he vaulted off of the griddle. The five pound cat was now in mid air heading towards a four quart bowl filled with pancake batter! The splash down that followed would have made the folks at NASA green with envy, and the image lingered in my mind for awhile because it was the last thing I saw before being blinded by batter! My glass frames and face were completely coated with the stuff, and it was dripping down my robe onto my slippers. I was so shocked that I screamed, and my husband came running into the kitchen. I quickly explained what happened and told everybody to go find Sullivan right away.

As I washed my face and glasses in the kitchen sink and wiped down my robe, my husband and the boys took off in different directions to find the cat. I was drying off when I realized that the coffee was not only perking, but running all over my clean stove. I shut off the gas, pulled the hot pot off of the burner and scalded my hand. Luckily, the kitchen was so tiny that the sink was only two steps away and I was quickly able to get my hand under cold running water. The icy stream was soothing my blistered skin and my heart rate was returning to normal, when I felt something plop onto the top of my head. I looked up, and sure enough, pancake batter was dripping from the ceiling!

Slowly, I started to survey the damage. The ceiling, cabinets, counters, floor and refrigerator had all been splattered with copious amounts of vanilla colored goo. The new curtains over the sink, and the wallpaper hadn't been spared either, but amazingly enough, the mixing bowl was still on the counter. It was almost empty, but at least it wasn't broken.

I stuck the bowl in the sink, filled it with sudsy water, scraped down the still warm griddle, then grabbed a roll of paper towels and started to wipe the mess off of the hard surfaces. It became immediately apparent that paper towels and spray cleaner weren't going to be enough to clean up a disaster of this magnitude. I needed a wash bucket, rags and the step ladder. I quickly mopped up whatever I could, then finished washing the bowl and made another batch of pancake batter. I had just finished mixing, when my husband came into the kitchen cradling our errant house pet in his arms. Colin and Carl were trailing behind.

"How did you find him so fast?" I asked. Sully always hid after executing one of his stunts, and we knew from experience that he could be difficult to find.

"I just followed the trail of batter up to our bedroom," my husband cautiously answered. He was obviously testing the waters for my reaction before dropping the next bomb. "He was shaking like a leaf in the middle of our bed. I grabbed him and stuck his feet in cold water in the upstairs sink, then cleaned him up a little. Poor guy let out a huge sigh when his paws hit the water."

It was my turn to let out a huge sigh. Unless I missed my bet, the wall to wall carpet, our comforter and the upstairs bathroom would need cleaning too. Thankfully, Sullivan seemed okay as I checked his paws and scratched him behind his damp little ears. The boys and my husband continued to fuss over him while I returned to making breakfast.

In short order, I was flipping pancakes on to plates. My husband gently set Sully down on the kitchen floor, and the sad little creature hobbled off to a quiet corner where he could lick his tender paws in peace. The "men folk" sat down to eat, and after setting up another round of pancakes, I finally got to have a cup of coffee. It was full of grounds from boiling over, but it didn't taste burned and it was exactly what I needed to jolt me back to reality. I ran my hand over the front of a cabinet, and discovered that the batter residue was starting to take on the quality of Portland cement. This sent me into a mood that even coffee couldn't fix.

While I turned the last batch of pancakes, I forced myself to calm down and began to formulate "Plan B." As soon as breakfast was done I would throw the curtains, my robe and slippers into the washer. Next, I would scrub down every surface that had been spattered, then I would hit the laundromat with the comforter that had to be washed and dried in a commercial machine. In between I would grab dessert at the local market because there would be no time to bake. If I hustled we could get this day back on track!

The remaining pancakes were ready, so I piled them on to a serving plate and placed them on the table. That's when I noticed that Carl hadn't touched a morsel of the stack on his plate!

"Is something wrong with your breakfast, honey?" I asked. Turned out that I wasn't at all prepared for the answer.

"Are these the pancakes that the cat jumped in? I think that these are the pancakes that the cat was in," Carl stated bluntly.

This turn of events seemed so preposterous, that I started laughing, but stopped short when I saw Carl's reaction. He was serious! I immediately explained that I had made another batch while everyone was off looking for the cat. Carl wasn't buying it!

"But I didn't seeyou make a second batch," he stubbornly responded.

Luckily, my husband jumped in to the conversation, because I was about to go ballistic!

"There wasn't any batter left in the bowl," my husband explained. "That's why there's so much all over the house." Carl still didn't back down. We had obviously reached an impasse, and further negotiation would be fruitless. I was the adult, this child needed breakfast, and it was my responsibility to resolve this situation. I did the only thing I could do...I offered Carl a bowl of cereal.

"That would be good," he said with a smile on his face.

I grabbed the cereal, a bowl, a spoon and the milk, set Carl up with his substitute breakfast, then beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen. I was on the brink, and one more thing was going to push me over the edge! On my way upstairs to change clothes, I checked out the damage in the rest of the house. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and once again I started to calm down.

After changing clothes and combing congealed batter out of my hair, I gathered up the things that needed to be laundered, brought them downstairs and cranked up the washing machine. By the time I returned to the kitchen, breakfast was over, the table had been cleared and the dishwasher had been loaded. The boys had gone upstairs to get dressed and play. My husband had brought the step ladder in from the garage, and had disappeared to do his weekend chores.

Since cleaning is my therapy of choice, I started implementing 'Plan B' as soon as possible, and by the time Carl's mom came to pick him up, I had accomplished quite a bit. My mood had also improved considerably, but not enough to stop me from jumping on my poor friend as soon as she crossed our threshold. "Does Carl always have pancakes on Saturday morning?" I demanded.

"Oh no, the Pancakes! I'm so sorry. I meant to grab a box out of the freezer and send them over with Carl last night, but it slipped my mind." She seemed very contrite as she continued. "Yes, he always has pancakes on Saturday. He's allowed to get them out of the freezer and use the microwave because he gets up too early for the rest of us."

My mind was reeling as I listened to this. Freezer??? Microwave??? I looked down at my hands. Last nights manicure had been destroyed by scrubbing, and the burn on my hand had turned a scary shade of purple. Once again, all I could do was start laughing. I explained what had happened and before long Carl's mom was laughing too.

After Carl and his mom left, I completed 'Plan B' and the rest of the day ran pretty smoothly. Colin's performance was note perfect, we had a pleasant evening with our friends and Sullivan was back to tearing around the house like nothing ever happened. I loved Carl again, and he became a regular fixture at our house every day after school when his mom had to return to work. As a thank you for the extra time that Carl spent with us, his mom gave me a book from the publishing house where she was employed. It's title - Microwave Magic!

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Have been too overwhelmed with the gardens and a computer glich to blog, but still try to keep up with my favorite bloggers. This post is especially for Gollum. It's a thank you for sharing her wonderful perspectives with us and because it involves the color blue. Please enjoy a piece of my homemade blueberry pie from our homegrown berries! Do have to warn you though...it's going fast because it's my husband's favorite!

Gollum first, ladies...then a piece for everyone else.

All of the berries came from our 2 tiny bushes that I bought and planted for my husband last year! Good thing we netted them to foil the birds. They're still producing, so maybe we'll have some blueberry buckle next...

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Watch out Ladies! That cute little gardener over at Tootsie Time with the innocent smile just might be a sly one. I'm pretty sure she's noticed that I haven't really started my blog, and she sensed that I would just have to post in response to a tag! How could I not respond to my garden guru??? Thanks Tootsie for the gentle nudge in the right direction. Now, the tag involves sharing 6 unimportant things about me. Limiting this to only six was a tough one, but here's the short list:

1) I cook and bake from scratch. Okay...full disclosure here...occasionally I'll grab something like a box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix, or Zatarain's rice, but not too often. I dislike cakes from mixes and never use them. Hmmm... last Friday I did make brownies from a mix for company. (I had every intention of making the little tarts from the recipe that Gollum posted, but couldn't get to the "good" store for lemon curd.) I did dress the brownies up by throwing a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top, and drizzling the whole thing with homemade hot fudge sauce. The company didn't complain, except after seconds, they said they were too full! Now that I think about it, maybe I'd better change #1 to mostly cook and bake from scratch.

2) Everything in my kitchen must be in it's designated spot. This is especially true of my spices. They have to be put back in their place on the turntables. A friend once accused me of alphabetizing my spices, but this was a vicious lie. I sort them by type.

3) Once I start reading a book, I can't stop. I will neglect my house, ignore my husband, and not bathe, eat or sleep until I turn the last page. Luckily, I read fast and finish most books in a few hours, thus sparing the world a smelly, hungry, sleep deprived woman.

4) I suffer from acrophobia. I don't like heights, and it's getting worse as I'm getting older. When we were building our house, my husband declared that he wanted a crystal chandelier in our 19 foot high front entry hall. I said no. I didn't think crystal suited the house, and who was going to get on a very tall ladder and clean it or change a light bulb? Certainly not moi! My husband said he would clean it, but I had this terrible vision of him on a ladder waving a Swiffer duster like a magic wand and declaring it "clean enough". We 'discussed' this for months, and my husband finally "won", but only because I discovered light lifts. I marveled at them at Lincoln Center in Manhattan for years, but had no idea they were used in residential construction. Turn the key and the darn thing is at eye level for cleaning. Turn the key the other way and it's back in place. This brilliant invention allowed us to avoid nasty divorce proceedings. (Yes, I would have gone after custody of the chandelier!)

5) Once the weather is warm enough I wear thongs. Okay ladies, shame on you! Derail that train of thought right now. I'm talking sandals here. At last count there were 21 pairs in my closet. They are my footwear of choice for warm weather, and I refuse to wear closed shoes again until it's cold enough to turn my toes blue! The only exception to this rule are my crocs, which are mandatory garden wear when it's wet!

I REFUSE TO POST A PICTURE FOR #6!!!

6) I despise Jello. I especially despise cherry Jello. It just lays on your tongue and raises your blood sugar to alarming levels. It is not food. It is not a toy. I'm not sure what it is! It also ruins perfectly good alcohol when you turn it into Jello shots! Yuck! It should be banned, just like DDT.

I don't know many bloggers well, since I'm just getting off of the ground posting, but I would like to tag Cindy at Romantic Home and Pat at Back Porch Musings. Have a great day. Nancy

Sunday, June 1, 2008

I've been trying to start this blog for quite a while but keep running out of time! Maybe it was the garage sale that I had last weekend, or the hours I've been spending in the garden. Then again it could have been the meetings at church, or book club or well, you get the picture...So consider this my first post! Not much, but it's a start, and I will probably be too embarrassed to leave it up for too long. That should prompt me to actually write something more substantial. At least this way I can get a comment and stall for some time while I figure out how to use the system more efficiently! Please check back again tomorrow! I'm going to try to post some garden photos!

About Me

I was born and raised a Connecticut Yankee, but at the tender age of 27, my beloved swept me off to Long Island, NY, practically before the ink was dry on our marriage license!
A few years ago, we took an early retirement, which included relocating to the hills of Northeast PA.